


Demons

by AlleycatIrony



Category: Original Work
Genre: Death, Demons, Gore, Guro, Horror, Intestines, Mentall Illness, Self Harm, Self-Harm, gut spill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-03 23:29:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5311172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlleycatIrony/pseuds/AlleycatIrony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a short horror story I wrote for an extra-curricular creative writing course.<br/>It is intended to make the reader uncomfortable, so it has been written in 2nd POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Demons

You sat, rigid and tense, picking at the skin around the fingers of your free hand with your teeth. It had been about three months since you shut yourself the attic. Three months since you’ve had any kind of social contact. You lived in an abusive foster home. You didn’t have any parents and no-one was willing to adopt you permanently. Your foster parents took you in temporarily out of pity. That was the only reason. You couldn’t blame them, really. After all, you were a teenager and a ratty one at that. No-one would take in someone like you. Your foster parents grew tired of you quickly. They beat you and abused you. To them you became nothing but a servant in their household. You couldn’t take it anymore so you hid yourself away to avoid further conflict. You planned to come back down but after a night you heard arguing from below. They thought you ran away. There was insults, accusations and then laughter. They didn’t care about you. They weren’t even going to bother searching for you. You decided to stay up there. After all, why would you return to a family that didn’t love you?

You thought it was a good idea at the time, but now the isolation was eating you up from the inside out. When was the last time you had a proper meal or slept? Delusions enveloped your mind. One was the broken mirror that sat in the corner of the room. It was the home of demons, you were certain of that. Large, black creatures that excreted ooze from their eyes and nostrils. They spoke to you. Told you about your future. Foretold your misfortune. You believed them. They were your only friends.

‘Why don’t you twist it?’ they said, cackling. Their eerie voices enclosing you in a thick smoke. You looked at the blade implanted into your thigh. That was a good idea, wasn’t it? You wondered how much blood would spill. It always got you excited.

‘Do it!’

‘Twist it, push it in further!’

You should, shouldn’t you? After all, the invitation was there. As though the blade was begging you to push it deeper through your skin. You craved the pain. It was comforting, almost like a hug.

The demons watched as you gripped the knife handle tighter. You paused. They looked dissatisfied with your actions. Their voices grew louder.

‘ _Do it!_ ’

You ignored them and pulled the knife out. You wanted to see what kind of wound you had created. They bared their teeth, lips curled in a snarl. You hushed them and admired your handiwork by opening the wound further with your fingertips. You saw bone. Blood was trickling out from the muscle and even though your thigh was burning, your mind was numb to your body’s cries for help. You were used to the pain. You liked it.

You looked over your scar-ridden body. You have done this so many times. The demons were beginning to find this boring. What else could you try? Something new. You had always wondered what kind of things were inside you. Maybe now was as good to find out.  
  
There was a voice. A small one, telling you this was a bad idea. That perhaps you shouldn’t do it, but it wasdrowned out by the louder demons. They were troublesome deities, but you trusted them with your life. They came closer. Soon your mind was humming with the many voices they possessed. Louder, louder. Your ears had started ringing. They knew what you were planning. You knew what they wanted you to do.

The corner of your mouth twitched with satisfaction. They were praising you, encouraging you. They gave you confidence. Granted, it was not needed. You held the blade close to the exposed flesh of your abdomen, the tip pressing against the skin. You dug it in. Your demons cheered.

‘That’s it!’ they screeched, ‘now pull it up! Up to your chest!’

You were uncertain at first. 

Your skin split under the knife’s blade and blood spilled from your wound. You scrunched up your nose as your room began to fill with the horrid smell of flesh.

The demons moved closer. They had almost enveloped you with their dark bodies and malevolent banter. ‘Pull your skin apart! See what lies underneath.’

That was an interesting proposal. You did as you were asked. You dug your fingernails in where the blade had riven your flesh and pried it open. Your organs were visible, but you wanted a better look. Curiosity was a killer, after all.  
You reached in and took a hold of your entrails, pulling them out. Your caution was gone. All that was left of your sanity was the dulled down voice in the back of your mind. Even that, however, had begun to fade as you gave into the demons, one by one.

You must admit you were disappointed by their colouration. You had always expected intestines to appear pink, however, yours were a bloodied, spotted grey. The sight of your own organs – even though you were detached from emotions – seemed to send you into a shock. You stood and dropped them from your hands. Your demons growled in warning and you faltered. You didn’t really want to do this anymore, but they were tenacious.  
  
‘Why have you stopped? Pull them out.’

Your eye twitched. Your breathing became hoarse and twisted. You could feel the bile making its way up through your throat and you swallowed it back down in defiance. You opened your mouth to speak but no words came out. How could they? It felt as though you didn’t have control over your body anymore.

‘What are you waiting for?’ they seethed. Your disobedience angered them. Their bodies moved closer to you, their clawed hands grasping at your wrists for power. You tried to fight back. They have had control over you for far too long, but your body was weak and you were losing blood.

Your hands suddenly felt as though they were forced into movement by the imaginary beings and you found yourself reaching deep inside your self-inflicted wound. You continued to pull your entrails out in a long string. You didn’t want this anymore, but you couldn’t stop now. Your demons had full control over your movements. Realisation hit you and your eyes widened. They weren’t your friends, they never were.

Your vision blurred and the floor appeared to move under your feet. You fell to your knees and the demons scattered to the farthest corners of the room. You knew why. They had no reason to be at your throat anymore. They had won.

You sat motionless as you stared at the wooden floor. It was no longer a calming shade of brown, it had been painted crimson. Your eyes glazed over. An average human could apparently survive fifteen minutes with their innards exposed. It didn’t matter how long you had, however. Time had run out.

You began to think back over your decisions. You wished you had been stronger. You wished you had stood up to your foster family instead of hiding in cowardice. You wished you had taken measures to prevent the demons from locking your mind away from reason. You regret ever listening to them in the first place. But it didn’t matter now.

They had taken you back to hell with them.

 

 

 


End file.
